The Old Neptune — the Neppy, or the Pub on the Beach — is a beacon. In summer, it is a pitstop for pints under the sun; in winter, its wind-warped, white clapboard frontage begins to merge bleakly into the grey sky, and it becomes a refuge.
On its shingled stretch of beach in Whitstable, it stands alone, with nothing but its own picnic benches for company. But in the wood-panelled interior, the pub heaves with punters sitting at the bar, in front of gleaming copper taps and fridges busy with Shepherd Neame beers. Food is uncomplicated — fish and chips, pints of prawns, jacket potatoes, crab sandwiches.
